


Wrong (In All the Right Ways)

by nevermindgrantaire



Series: She Keeps Me Warm [17]
Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hair-pulling, Hate to Love, Rule 63, Sexual Tension, one of the two, or dislike to making out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-08
Updated: 2015-05-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 16:11:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3902548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevermindgrantaire/pseuds/nevermindgrantaire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enjolras can't stand Grantaire. Grantaire loves to wind Enjolras up until she snaps. She finds it hilarious, and to be honest, the attention that Enjolras gives her leaves her happy enough to fly even if it is just to say "piss off." She can't help it. She's in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrong (In All the Right Ways)

Grantaire slouches at the back of the class room, a sticky pink plaster stuck over a deep cut on one cheek and a graze above her eyebrow. She’s smirking a little to herself, an unlit cigarette hanging out of her mouth- very nearly a nod to the no smoking rules- and her hands are stuck deep into the pockets of her leather jacket. One hand is tapping out a rhythm on the table- near her bobbing thumb, engraved into the desk is an intricate sketch of a girl with long, curling hair, caught mid motion flicking her hair over her shoulder. Beside it, of course, is a marker pen drawing of a phallus and the words “dick head”. It’s a public college.

The summer holidays are stretching ahead of her endlessly, the last mindless lecture of the term before freedom and her brain is fried. She’s tired. Exhausted.

Still, she wants to see Enjolras.

At the front of the class, the teacher is preparing her papers, getting up a powerpoint and looking up at Grantaire every few seconds to make sure that she hasn’t stolen anything yet.

Grantaire on the other hand is looking towards the door every so often with a faux casual air- trying to project that she doesn’t care, like always. When Enjolras walks through the door, she sits up a little straighter and stretches out her legs, crossing her ankles, accidentally tripping Enj over as she walks. “Shit, sorry, are you ok?”

Enjolras glares at her, flicking her blonde ponytail over her shoulder as she drops to the seat in front of her. “Go away.”

“I said sorry,” Grantaire huffs, and thinks that she sees a little glint of apology in her eyes as she realises R didn’t actually mean to. Still Enjolras doesn’t say anything, just turns back to getting out her pencil case.

The teacher starts talking and Grantaire starts ignoring her, slumping down in her seat and sketching instead. It starts out swirls and curls and scribbles but ends up looking far too much like a very detailed pencil sketch of Enjolras’ hair, and she sighs and turns the page.

She’s bored almost instantly, and starts to rock on her chair- kicking off on the chair in front of her to tilt her own chair back. Enjolras subtly tries to move her chair to stop her kicking and Grantaire grins. She’s annoying her. She kicks it again.

When the teacher turns to the board for a moment, Enjolras’ head whips round and fixes her with an icy look. “Oh my god, go away!”

“What did I do?”

Enjolras doesn’t bother answering, ignoring R’s big green ‘innocent’ eyes. She just huffs and turns back.

Grantaire smirks to herself and swaps the unlit cigarette for some bubble gum. She pokes her in the shoulder. “Want some?”

“No!” Enjolras hisses.

“Why not?”

“Because you’re not meant to chew gum in lessons!”

“Pfffft.” Grantaire snorts. “Fine, whatever.”

From the front of the class, the teacher snaps round to glare at them. “Grantaire. Something to say to the class?”

“No miss,” Grantaire blows a bubble pointedly.

“No talking,” The teacher says tiredly, figuring that it’s pointless trying to tell her off. After all, there is practically nothing that would persuade Grantaire to participate in lessons. She’s clever, it’s true. She’s just lazy as fuck unless she cares about it.

The moment the teacher turns away again, Grantaire is poking Enjolras’ shoulder. “Are you sure you don’t want some gum?”

“If I take the gum will you go away?”

“Maybe,” Grantaire shrugged and grins at her- Enjolras forgets herself for a moment and starts to grin back, then scowls and snatches the strip of gum from her outstretched hand. As she spins round, her ponytail hits R in the face. It smells of cherry shampoo, like coffee and sugar and .

Grantaire scrunches her face and goes back to kicking her chair only not as frequently as before. Enjolras doesn’t turn round. Grantaire kicks a little harder, pushing a little further. Enjolras just edges to the end of her seat so that she can’t feel it.

She annoys herself sometimes, she has to admit. She just… finds it difficult to stop herself sometimes. It’s a habit so deeply ingrained into her that she can’t help it and with Enjolras it’s even more difficult for her to resist. She wants to provoke a reaction, for certain. She loves it when the other girl’s jaw tightens and her cheeks flush. She stutters when she gets angry. It’s adorable. And the thing with Enjolras is that she likes to act so high and mighty, perfect prefect in her red dresses and long socks and brushed out blonde hair pulled up into its neat scrunchie. It’s fun, once in a while, to chip away at that pristine exterior and watch while she fumbles for words. And Enjolras swears when she’s angry too, and its Grantaire’s favourite thing. She can’t work out if it’s more hilarious or sexy, little miss catholic school in her knee high socks and her thick rimmed glasses and hair brushed a hundred times in the mirror.

And more than that, it’s a way to make Enjolras focus all her attention on her, even if it’s barely for a moment.

So she kicks her foot out again.

This time, Enjolras isn’t expecting it and she’s just started chewing on her pen- the shock makes her bite down and the ink explodes into her mouth. Grantaire snorts a laugh, unattractively, and leans back in her chair. She’s smirking, proud of her work.

“You…” Enjolras takes a breath, and spits ink out onto the floor, standing up. “… Are the most. The most fucking irritating person I have ever met in my life!”

Grantaire raises an eyebrow, perfectly composed, and Enjolras gives a little scream of frustration and clenches her fists.

“Miss Enjolras, is there a problem?” the teacher asks, and a kid at the front of the class snickers. Enjolras’ cheeks are on fire, worrying at her ink-flavoured lip.

“No, no. Sorry.” She says, quieter, and sits down.

Grantaire feels… almost guilty. She feels a twist of sympathy for the girl- neither of them are exactly popular in the class, her because frankly she’s just a little too annoying, and Enjolras because of her perfect princess image.

A moment later, a packet of tissues land on Enjolras’ desk with a flump and Enjolras sits up, looking round. Grantaire is pointedly not looking at her, and Enjolras looks away again, trying to hide a smirk.

She dabs at the ink stain, wiping it away, and passes the tissue packet back to Grantaire. “Thank you,” she whispers.

Grantaire pretends not to have heard her, but Enjolras is sure she sees a little upturn at the corner of her lips.

When she turns back to listen to the teacher once more, Grantaire eyes the back of her head. Her hair is lovely. R can’t quite work out if she wants to paint it, have it for herself or to run her fingers through it. Or a mix of the three. She has to restrain herself from reaching out and tugging a golden curl, because she’s trying to restrain herself from being irritating. Enjolras has nice ears, too, Grantaire decides. She hasn’t had them pierced, wasn’t allowed apparently. It’s cute.

R sighs. The teacher is running through a seemingly endless PowerPoint, endless. Even perfect Enjolras is yawning, stretching out her arms surreptitiously. “Bored?” R asks.

“No.” Enjolras lies.

“Sure.”

“I’m not!”

“Course not. Having the time of your life, right?”

“Absolutely.”

Grantaire smirks. “Oh yeah, me too. I just love learning about…” She has to look at the board to know what the lesson is even on. “Oxbow lakes. Love it.”

“It’s fascinating.” Enjolras manages to say without any trace of irony. Then she yawns, and ruins the whole impression.

Grantaire snorts and sinks down in her seat, shrugging her jacket off. “It’s too hot and this is boring as fuck. Admit it.”

“No.”

“Admit it!”

“Go away, Grantaire.”

Grantaire freezes for a moment when Enjolras says her name, blinking a little. It shouldn’t come as such a surprise. It just sounds good, coming from her lips. She smiles lazily. “Admit it. I’ve got all day.”

“Go away, Grantaire!”

“Enjolras! Grantaire!” The teacher breaks into their little bubble of irritation suddenly, and they both instantly put on their innocent faces. “I have warned you multiple times already to stop talking-”

Grantaire yawns loudly. “If you weren’t so dull, maybe I wouldn’t have to find my own entertainment.”

“You are not here to be entertained, you are here to learn!”

Grantaire shrugs, smirking at Enjolras who tries to look away and pretend that she doesn’t know her.

The teacher sighs wearily. “Just get out.”

Grantaire shrugs, patting Enjolras on the head as she goes. “Bye bye, sweetheart.”

“You too, Enjolras,” the teacher says.

“What?” Enjolras half stands, gaping- Grantaire is already loping out of the room, a half smile on her lips. “But I-”

“You’re distracting the rest of the class. Out.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Go. Now.”

Enjolras whirls round and storms out, bumping hard into Grantaire’s shoulder as she leaves and flopping down in the corridor. R follows her, sitting down against the wall opposite. “This is your fault.”

Grantaire tips an imaginary hat. “At your service.”

“Seriously, R, this isn’t fair! It’s not my fault you’re incapable of leaving me alone for more than ten seconds.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Why are you always so fucking annoying?” Enjolras practically screeches, cheeks flushed. The heat has sent a stray curl of her hair spiralling upwards, flyaway style. Grantaire fixes her eyes on it.

“Jeez. Sorry, princess.”

“No, I want an actual answer. Why? You only do it to me, I’ve never seen you wind up anyone else in the class at all.”

Grantaire shrugs, and glances out of the window at the end of the corridor. Blue sky and sunshine. It’s painfully hot in the airless corridor and the space suddenly seems in short supply. Enjolras is leaning towards her, her leg pressing against Grantaire’s and it feels like it’s burning a hole through her jeans, through her skin. She knows she should be more concerned about the glare that Enjolras is giving her but she can only focus on the pressure on her leg and it’s ridiculous. “You’re ridiculous,” she says, out loud but too quiet for Enjolras to hear properly.

“What, am I just especially special or something?” She laughs bitterly. “The only one worthy of a subscription to your service?”

“Enjolras.”

“What?” She snaps. She moves her leg away, but Grantaire follows her to her side of the corridor, kneeling in front of her.

“Enjolras,” she says again. Then there’s silence. She can’t find the words, her green eyes boring into Enjolras’ like she’s trying to convey her emotions through telepathy and maybe it’s working because Enjolras is leaning towards her, closer and closer and she feels her breath catch in her throat. “Enjolras,” she repeats again, like a prayer.

“I can’t fucking stand you sometimes,” Enjolras says and she fists her hands into Grantaire’s hair, pulling hard. Grantaire catches her breath again, warmth pooling in her stomach. A little whine escapes from her throat and she freezes like a rabbit in the headlights because she wants Enjolras to do that again and she will do anything for her to touch her right now. Enjolras is looking in her eyes and she seems to read something there because she yanks on her hair again, tangling her fingers and pulling her towards her hard.

Enjolras’ lip flickers out over her dry lips, suddenly nervous, and Grantaire whimpers again, throat bobbing when she swallows. Enjolras takes a breath. Then she leans over, and brushes their lips together. Not a kiss. A promise of a kiss, the calm before the storm. A touch of gentleness, before… Anxiety grips R’s stomach with the waiting. Worrying that she’s changed her mind, but. The kiss, when it finally comes, is violent. Harsh and almost painful, like revenge for months of tiny annoyances built into one but Grantaire doesn’t care as long as Enjolras keeps on doing it because she would die for just ten more seconds of this. She pulls away for an instant to drag in a breath before she’s diving back into the kiss, Enjolras’ smooth lips, parted in surprise, bruise-stained and smeared with lipgloss and beautiful. She doesn’t realise but she’s breathing the words against Enjolras’ mouth. “Beautiful.” She’s still kissing her, too hard and too harsh but Grantaire doesn’t fight it, just breathes into the kiss. “Beautiful.”

Her hands are flailing, unsure, until Enjolras releases her hair, softens the kiss and takes her hand, guiding it around her waist. Grantaire numbly thumbs along the seam of her shirt, the ridge of her skirt waist band. Her lips are sore, aching and craving- the gentle kiss is not enough. She realises with a start that she is almost in Enjolras’ lap, hips grazing hers. When Enjolras turns to breathe, panting, breathless, Grantaire turns her attention to Enjolras’ neck, kissing lazily. The franticness is gone now.

When Enjolras finally has enough breath to speak, she half laughs, and Grantaire pauses in her worship of her perfect neck, almost offended. “I guess there was some unresolved… tension between us. That would explain all the…”

“Yeah,” Grantaire breathed against her ear.

“Ok...”

There’s a pause. Grantaire can hear Enjolras’ heartbeat, and she knows she should move away so that they can _talk_ about it but it feels right there, safe and calm, so she stays and drags her lips over Enjolras’ throat again. “Ok,” she murmurs.

Enjolras closes her eyes, head lolling back against the wall. “Grantaire,” she says, and the words send curls of warmth all over Grantaire’s body and makes her smile- she can feel the movement against her skin.

“This is… ok. Right?”

“Right.”

Grantaire finally pulls away, ignoring Enjolras’ mewl of displeasure. “The lesson’s probably going to end soon. You might want to try and make yourself look a little more presentable.”

Enjolras looks her up and down, and snorts. “I bet I’m not as bad as you!”

“What?” Grantaire rubs a hand over her face. “What is it?”

“Your hair! It’s… Come here.” Enjolras tries pitifully to try and straighten it out a bit. “Well. That’s a little better, at least.”

Grantaire sighs. “So. That resolved some tension, I guess?”

“That is true.” Enjolras half smiled. “I mean, I prefer to resolve things by talking, usually. You know. Instead of violently making out with people.”

“Usually?” Grantaire laughs. “You mean I’m not the only one? I’m hurt.”

Enjolras pokes her in the ribs and makes her squirm. “But seriously. Where are we at with all… this.”

“Well I don’t know about you, but I’m in a corridor at college. Sitting on the floor. With an incredibly hot nerd.”

“I’m not a nerd.”

“You really are.”

Enjolras shakes her hair, curls bouncing, and pokes her again. “No, you know what I mean. What’s happening with the whole… thing.”

“Well.” Grantaire takes a deep breath. “I would not be averse to doing that again.”

Enjolras nods. “Good, because neither would I.”

“Good.”

“Are you going to stop winding me up in class now, then?”

Grantaire kisses her on the cheek loudly and snickers. “What do you think?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! comments and kudos etc are hugely appreciated :)


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